


A Perfect Place

by lallyloo



Category: Eagle of the Ninth Series - Rosemary Sutcliff, The Eagle | Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-03
Updated: 2012-02-03
Packaged: 2017-10-30 13:46:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/332387
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lallyloo/pseuds/lallyloo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Marcus knows Esca.  So what happens next is unexpected.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Perfect Place

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coeurdesoleil](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coeurdesoleil/gifts).



The first time it happens is on a night like any other.

They've eaten their supper, and bedded down the horses, and Marcus has only been resting in his chair for a moment when Esca approaches.

“It's been a long day,” he says quietly, stepping between Marcus's thighs.

Marcus hums in response, placing a hand on Esca's hip, encouraging him to come closer.

Esca leans over him, bracing himself on one knee. “I fear the dappled mare won't make it through the winter.”

“I think she has some fight in her still,” Marcus replies as Esca leans in to kiss him.

Marcus is used to this, their quiet talks in the evening, Esca's hands on him by the firelight. Esca has never been shy about what he wants, kissing Marcus on their first proper night in their farmhouse and telling Marcus he'd like to have him for his own, forever. They'd set up a second sleeping area in their small farmhouse, but never used it, as Marcus moved to Esca's bed that night and hadn't left.

Marcus knows Esca's needs and desires, knows the smile he gets when Marcus is doing something he likes, knows the glimmer in his eye when he stalks across the stable floor and throws Marcus down in the hay. He knows when Esca is sad, when the weather shifts and the rain seems endless and his newly planted fields are washed away, and on those dark evenings when he grows quiet and thinks of his family. He also knows when Esca is happy, when he's hunting with Marcus, laughing and shouting as their horses carry them on and it seems as if they could ride forever, and on those days when their crops finally peek above the soil, the tiny green leaves giving them hope for a hearty fall harvest and a good winter.

Marcus knows these things. He knows Esca.

So what happens next is unexpected.

Esca brings his other knee up with him, putting all his weight on Marcus, looking worried for a moment as the chair creaks beneath them. He laughs, the sound so familiar now that Marcus is able to recognize the tinge of nervousness beneath it, and he can only stare as Esca sits back, seated fully on his lap.

Marcus waits for Esca to speak, and Esca seems reluctant to, watching Marcus for a moment before he leans forward and rests against Marcus's chest, his cheek pressed into Marcus's tunic.

A sound of surprise escapes Marcus's throat, and he places a hand to Esca's back, stroking it carefully, half afraid he'll spook Esca and the moment might end.

Marcus doesn't understand it, or what brought it about, he only knows he likes it.

The moment passes as quickly as it came.

That night, when Marcus finds himself lying next to Esca in the darkness, he resists the urge to ask why.

 

Esca doesn't do it again.

Days pass, then weeks, and Marcus waits for it to happen again, his heart racing when Esca approaches him in the evenings. Some mornings Marcus will take a seat in his chair, breaking his usual habits, hoping that Esca might take the hint and sit with him again.

But Esca does nothing.

Marcus soon finds himself wishing for it, wanting it, becoming fixated on it.

He revisits the evening in his mind, trying to remember each detail and what might have brought Esca to sit in his lap and curl up to him. Marcus tries to remember the earlier hours of that day, tilling the fields and caring for the horses, and the biting air as the cold moved in from the north.

It seemed a day like any other. Hard, tiring, but nothing out of the ordinary on their farm. Esca hadn't seemed particularly sad, and as far as Marcus could remember he'd done nothing to cause Esca any sort of upset.

 

A full month passes before Marcus gains the courage to ask Esca.

He takes a seat in his chair shortly after supper, staying there in the hope that Esca might join him. When it is clear that Esca seems content to sit in his own chair, his mind seemingly distracted as he stares into the fire, Marcus takes a deep breath and speaks.

“Do you remember the night you sat with me?”

Esca turns to him, his expression unreadable in the low light. “Yes.”

“Why haven't you done it since?”

Esca is quiet, watching him, and Marcus holds his gaze as he waits for an answer.

“Would you have liked me to do it again?”

“Yes,” Marcus admits, “I would've liked that.”

“I was unsure,” Esca begins, turning back to the fire. “You had been so quiet. I was unsure.”

“I've thought about it every day since.”

“Have you?” Esca asks, looking to him again, the surprise on his brow unmistakable.

“I hoped you would come to me again.”

Esca seems to consider this, pondering Marcus's words before he speaks again. “Does it makes me weak in your eyes?”

“Weak?” Marcus stammers. “Esca, I have yet to see any sort of weakness from you. I've started to think you incapable of it.”

“Yet, this,” Esca replies. “Wanting it. Is it a weakness?”

“If it is a weakness, then I am weak too,” Marcus says, reconsidering his words when Esca turns away from him again. “Though, I do not believe it to be.”

“Sitting in your lap as a child might, that does not seem weak?”

“No.”

“You say that only to appease me.”

“I say it because it is true,” Marcus replies, his tone growing more serious. When Esca remains quiet, Marcus continues, “the things you do to me,” he says, his cheeks burning with the embarrassment of voicing it out loud, “throwing me down in the stables, taking me in our bed, do you think I am weak for that?”

“It is not the same thing.”

“It is,” Marcus insists. “The things you do give me pleasure, and I ask you, does that make me weak?”

“No.”

“If sitting with me brings you pleasure, or comfort, or happiness, is that weakness in your eyes?”

Esca looks to him again, a smile threatening at the corners of his mouth. “You only wish to get me in your lap again.”

“I do,” Marcus admits, smiling, “yet, that doesn't make what I say any less true.”

Esca rises from his chair, moving closer to Marcus, stepping between his thighs as he's done on countless other evenings. Marcus's heart quickens, as he knows this time will be different.

“I do like it there,” Esca says quietly. “With the size of you, and the size of me, your lap seems a perfect place for me to sit.”

“Then it shall always be open to you,” Marcus replies, waiting, hoping to see Esca smile again.

And he is rewarded, as Esca smiles down at him, pushing him back as he climbs onto his lap. Esca settles his knees on either side of Marcus, and leans into him, resting against his chest.

“You might come to regret this offer,” Esca says, laughing quietly. 

“I won't,” Marcus replies, wrapping his arms around Esca and holding him there. “I've been wanting this.”

He can feel Esca settle further, his full weight resting on Marcus.

“As have I.”


End file.
